With Arms Wide Open
by Kate87
Summary: My spin on the CarterKem relationship, with a glimpse in to the future of Carter and Abby. Fuzz, with a little angst included for good measure. Includes spoilers up to episode 2 of season 11.


WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS UP TO SEASON 11 EPISODE 2.  
  
AN: Okay, this fic is a little different. It's not necessarily AU, but I've taken a little poetic license as to what will happen in the future to Carter and Abby. The italics at the beginning are a flashback of sorts, mostly just a prologue to, in a way, "compare" what Carter had with Kem to what Carter has with Abby. Most of the dialogue in that section, along with the characters of Carter, Abby, Kem, Susan, Luka, and all others mentioned in this story belong to the creators of ER and are in no way, shape, or form, my own ideas. However, the story that I've created around them is, so please don't steal it. Thanks.  
  
The title, and the idea that sparked the whole thing, came from Creed's song "With Arms Wide Open" off their "Human Clay" CD, which I also do not own.  
  
A special thank you goes out to Aimee, who's listened to me bitch about this story for the last three days, and to Jess and Rach, who've basically threatened death if I gave up and didn't finish it. You guys rock my socks!  
  
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_I push the door closed with my foot as I slip through, my arms full of packages from the village. I do plan on returning to Chicago one day and hope that I may remain in my friends and colleagues good graces if I send some Christmas presents. A native mask for Luka, a doll for Elizabeth to give to Ella, a woven purse for Susan...not exactly gifts straight from Alvin and the Chipmunk's Must-Have List, but I think they'll do. At least, I hope they will.  
  
I place the box on the table quickly and remove the wrapping paper and twine from the box, along with the first gift – a shaman's box for Abby.  
  
Abby.  
  
Even thinking her name still causes a twinge in my heart. Whether it is love or heartbreak that causes it I'll never know. I cut the paper and begin to tie the edges off with the twine...not nearly as grand as the gift that I got her last year, but this will have to do. Placing it back in the box and pulling out another, I remind myself that I shouldn't compare anything that's happening now to last year. Things now are much, much different. Abby isn't my girlfriend, and, if I really think about it, it's doubtful that she'll even open this gift, much less analyze the wrapping paper. Not that I would expect her to. Luka hasn't said much about her in his letters, but I figure it's a safe assumption that she's planning to never speak to me again, at the very least. I know that I must have hurt her with my letter, but I had to write it. She needed to be on her own – have her chance to get her life together and I needed to let her do that. Hell, there were a few changes I needed to make, too. And if it meant sending a letter home with Luka and living on another continent to make that happen, then I would do that. We would both grow, no matter how much she denied that 'people ever really change'. And then maybe, someday...  
  
The door clicks open behind me and I turn to see Kem enter.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hi." I smile. She leans down to peck me on the lips and I remind myself that I am happy and chide myself for thinking of Abby.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Oh, I was just wrapping some Christmas presents for some friends back home."  
  
"Fonguai? Hope you didn't pay too much for it."  
  
"No, it was cheap. Fifty bucks," she's not impressed. "...I was kidding, it was three."  
  
I smile again and tell myself that this is good. This is exactly where I want to be.  
  
"Oh."  
  
I think she seems upset, but I'm not sure. I've only known her for a short time, and I'm still not exactly sure of how to read her moods. I try the only approach I can think of...  
  
"How was your day?"  
  
"Oh, endless." She picks up the package that I've just placed in the box and glances at the homemade tag. "Who's Abby?"  
  
Abby is...she's my...God, what is she? There was a time when I'd be able to define her in a split second. Student. Co-worker. Lifesaver. Sponsor. Friend. Best friend. Girlfriend. Lover. The woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with...  
  
"She's a – I don't know, a friend."  
  
Apparently she's sensed my hesitation.  
  
"Really?"  
  
Yep. She definitely knows there's something I'm not telling her.  
  
"I hope she still is." She's still looking at me with that 'you're lying' face, and I figure that I'd better change the subject, and fast. "Why? Jealous?"  
  
"A bit." She gives me a half-smile and I think that she may just let this drop, and I'm grateful. Kem is supposed to be someone who doesn't know anything about the John Carter that was hopelessly in love with Abby Lockhart and I'm glad. She's supposed to be the woman who helps me to get over her, and I really don't want to go into the time that I was...under her. I chuckle at the reference and turn my attention back towards Kem.  
  
"I think I might be pregnant."  
  
I mustn't have heard right because that's just not possible. I mean...that's just...  
  
"What? How? When did...Oh, yeah."  
  
Thoughts swirl through my head and I really don't know exactly what to make of this news.  
  
"Uh huh. You angry?"  
  
Am I? I take a deep breath and think about it. Really think. A baby would be...it would be amazing. A little person with my eyes...Gamma's smile...that would be good, right?  
  
"No."  
  
"You're upset."  
  
I smile. No. I'm...well, I think I'm happy. This is simple. This is me, and Kem, and a baby. A son. A daughter. A Carter. Someone to teach how to talk, how to walk. Someone for me to love. And love is fantastic.  
  
"No." I decide. I glance at her face and see something unreadable in her eyes. "Are you?"  
  
"I thought I would be, but it's strange...I think I'm happy."  
  
My thoughts exactly. I grab the tray in front of me and move it to the side, standing up to grasp her hands and smile again.  
  
"You wanna have a baby?"  
  
"I don't know, do you?"  
  
"You first."  
  
She sighs. "I've got my program and we barely know each other. It's been what, six hours?"  
  
"Six weeks."  
  
"Oh God, I'm really in trouble." She sighs. I'm not sure what exactly is trouble about this, but I'll take that smile as a good sign.  
  
I pull her into a hug, and kiss the top of her head.  
  
I'm going to be a father. All the times that I imagined this moment, I never thought that it would be like this. I always pictured myself married, stable, in a nice house with the picket fence and a dog. Up until now, I pictured myself with Abby.  
  
But maybe, just maybe, I don't need Abby anymore.  
  
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I trudge slowly up the front steps to my home after what has proved to be a very taxing twelve-turned-eighteen-hour shift. My key slides into the lock and I turn the knob and slip in quietly, hoping that I don't wake my wife. If there's one thing I've learned in our time together, there are a select few ways that she enjoys being woken and my slamming the door after midnight is definitely not one of them.  
  
As I remove my jacket, I turn my attention towards the rest of the house. The only light on the first floor appears to be the small lamp on the table to my left. I drop my keys on top and place my bag on the floor next to hers before switching off the light and ascending the stairs toward our bedroom.  
  
I reach the top and notice that she's left yet another light on up here. I begin to wonder if she thinks that I still don't know my way around and has slipped into and old habit that would prevent the string of curse words bound to escape my mouth in dark hallways after late shifts early in our marriage when I notice where the light is coming from. I push the door open further, bathing the hall in the soft glow of the lights in our bedroom and lean against the doorframe.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"I told you not to wait up."  
  
"Yeah, well, I almost didn't make it. I was really beginning to wonder if you were ever coming home."  
  
I push myself away from my leaning post and pad across the room to where she sits on our bed. Her legs tucked under the duvet, a photo album in her lap.  
  
"Sorry." I give her a half-smile as I strip down to my boxers and a tee shirt and climb in next to her as she quickly closes the album and sets it on her nightstand. "I, uh...I stopped on my way home."  
  
She grabs my hand and pulls it towards her, lacing her fingers through mine in support and understanding. Anyone else would ask a million questions, but she just knows. The silent communication is always something that I've loved about our relationship.  
  
I wrap my left arm around her and pull her to my chest, burying my head in her hair and taking a few deep breaths trying to control the tears that I know will come.  
  
She rubs the thumb of the hand the claps mine over the back of my hand a few times before letting go, in favor of wrapping both arms around me and burrowing into my chest, planting a soft kiss near my heart.  
  
The simple action causes my feelings to overwhelm me and I attempt to blink back the fat drops that well over my eyelids and begin to fall in to her soft mane.  
  
She pulls away to look up at me, and wipes away a few more tears with her thumb.  
  
"You wanna talk about it?"  
  
"What can I say that hasn't been said already?" I lean my head against the headboard and stare at the ceiling attempting to collect my thoughts. "It's been four years. Four years, Abby. Shouldn't I be getting over it? Shouldn't it start hurting less?"  
  
"Hey." She reaches up to grab my chin and pulls my face down to meet hers. "Was he your son?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did you love him?"  
  
"Of course, but-"  
  
"Then you'll never totally 'get over it'."  
  
"But I feel like I should, ya know? My life is completely different now. I love you so much and I'm so happy here, with you. Happier than I've ever been- except for this black cloud that blows in once a year, and has the potential to destroy me.  
  
"I got up today, walked the dog, showered, went to work, kissed you and everything was great. I had a fantastic life. I have the beautiful house with the white picket fence and the cute dog, the good job, and the fantastic wife who I'm head-over-heels for, hell, I felt like the stereotypical guy in some cheesy movie.  
  
"And then 'wham!' Susan hands me a chart and I just happen to glance at the date...and it kills me. And I just- I don't want to feel like this anymore!"  
  
"John. Baby, I love you so much and I wish that I could tell you that this would all just go away, but I can't, because I don't think it ever does. Maybe you never completely get used to it. But, ya know, maybe that's a good thing, because it's part of what makes you, you.  
  
"And, in a way, it's part of what makes us. I know that I told you once that people can never really change, but they do. And, as much as I hate to admit it, there is no way the people we were 5 years ago would have even come close to having what we have right now.  
  
"Terrible things happen. Its all part of the ebb and flow of life, and no matter how much we wish that they wouldn't happen to us or the ones we love, but they do."  
  
"But that's just it, Abby. Terrible things have happened to you, and you've healed."  
  
"I know that you think you haven't, but you've healed, too, John. The pain may always be there, but you've overcome it. You said it yourself; you're happy, you have a fantastic life. And it's normal to be sad, to miss him. He will always be a part of you. And that's okay."  
  
I lean my head close to hers, kissing her long and hard on the lips. Our foreheads touch when we pull apart, exchanging small kisses every now and then.  
  
"What did I do to deserve you?"  
  
"I dunno. It must be the money," she jokes as we slide down onto our sides, her body still pressed against mine. "Or maybe the really great sex."  
  
"Oh yeah?" I play along, glad for the change of subject.  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
We lay in silence for a while and I think back over the events that have occurred in the past four years of my life. When the baby died, I was devastated. There were moments during Kem's pregnancy that I wished my life was completely different, and moments that I didn't want to change a thing. And, when it happened, I felt so guilty. Had it been my own fault? Had my wishing that I had never even gone to Africa been the catalyst for this terrible tragedy?  
  
I remember the day it happened like it was yesterday. The moment we found out the baby had died. The hours of labor amidst the cries of joy of other parents on the floor. The minute that my son was brought into the world amidst the anguished cries of his parents. Sitting with my father, Luka, and Abby outside the room, wishing that it were all just a terrible nightmare. Most of all, I remember holding my son for the first and only time. Cradling he and his mother in my arms, sobbing while my heart broke for the life that I would never have.  
  
I don't know if I was ever really in love with Kem, but I did love her. She was the mother of my first-born child, and there's nothing that can destroy the feelings that you have for the woman who gives you a son. The days directly after the baby's birth were the hardest. Kem had almost completely shut herself off to me, spending most of her time in bed or the unfinished nursery, though sometimes taking long walks on the beach to "clear her head."  
  
I caught up with her one day, desperate to talk to her. To find out exactly what she was feeling, to comfort her, and, hopefully, let her comfort me. It was then that she told me that she was planning to go back to Africa and I just, I panicked. I remember begging her to stay, asking her to marry me in a desperate plea to hold on to the life that I thought I wanted. I was terrified of what would happen if she left. When she was here I thought about the baby everyday, would I begin to forget if she wasn't there, crying, when I got home? Though we never really talked about what happened, I knew she understood. She had lost the same child that I was consumed with grief for...if she left would anyone else understand? I kept myself together to be strong for her...what would I become if I only had to live for me?  
  
The answer to that is a pathetic mess. Kem explained to me that she had, apparently, been having the same thoughts about wishing that this whole thing had never happened and felt that the whole way to move on, for her, would be to return to Kinshasa...alone. I knew that what she said about our not being right for each other and needing to realize that it was only the promise of a family is what had kept us together this long was right, but it still was hard to accept. I started drinking heavily, I even showed up at work drunk, once. It was then that Abby, who had been offering quick condolences when she could but complying by my wishes that everyone leave me alone, convinced me that I really did need help. She took me to a meeting that night, and let me sleep on her couch for the next week-and-a- half while I started to get my life back in order. I called off the selling of the mansion and arranged to have my things sent back there, Kem's sent to Africa, and our son's placed in storage. I sold the townhouse I had purchased, and looked into getting an apartment in the neighborhood. I didn't want to sell the mansion, but I certainly didn't want to live there, either. I needed someplace new, someplace that was all me, with no memories of Kem, or the baby, or Gamma, or...or Abby.  
  
I remember the first night I spent at her place. She made coffee, in hopes of sobering me up, but knowing full well it's powers as a truth serum. She sat with me all night and we talked about everything and nothing. There were tears and apologies, laughter and hugs. We laughed at how we were back to where we started...two addicts bonding over coffee at three in the morning, knowing full well that we had shifts in the morning. But it was okay, because before anything else in our relationship we were friends, and it meant more than anything to both of us that we get that back.  
  
And being friends worked for us for a while. Occasional coffees, meetings, pie or a burger at Ike's after the long meetings or even longer shifts...it was nice. It was exactly what we needed. She was busy with her internship and I was juggling working at the hospital and becoming more involved in the foundation's aide programs, even entertaining the idea of opening "The Carter Family Clinic". I barely noticed that Abby and I had started getting together more often, catching a movie, or getting a meal somewhere that wasn't Ike's or the hospital cafeteria. Before either of us realized it we were spending so much time together that the hospital rumor mill was churning out stories of how we'd finally "pulled our heads out of our asses" and gotten back together.  
  
We hadn't, of course, but hearing about it did strike something somewhere inside me, and it all just clicked. I had loved Abby Lockhart for the past 5 years and maybe it was time that I should "pull my head out of my ass" and actually tell her. And I did. And she did, too. We got back together that night and never looked back. I proposed six months later, and we'll be married two years in August.  
  
I'm shaken from my reverie by Abby turning over next to me and reaching behind her to wrap my arms around her torso. I begin to settle myself behind her, reaching over to flip the lamp next to her off, when the album she had in her lap earlier catches my eye.  
  
"What's this?" I start to reach for it, but she grabs it out from under me and pulls it closer to herself.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Huh. Cause it appears to be a photo album..."  
  
"It's just – nothing." She disentangles herself from me quickly and attempts to shove it under the bed. I'm able to stop her movements quickly, however, and drag her back towards me on the bed, desperately grabbing for this album full of whatever secret pictures she doesn't want to show me.  
  
"C'mon. What could possibly be so bad about what ever pictures are in here that even you won't let me see them?"  
  
"There not bad! I just...don't want to show you yet."  
  
I raise and eyebrow at her and ease up on my struggle, figuring that she'll tell me on her own exactly what's up with this mystery book.  
  
"It's a birthday present."  
  
"Really?" I arch an eyebrow at her playfully.  
  
"Yeah. It's kinda...sentimental, and I just...I wanted to make sure I had everything right."  
  
It's moments like these when I am reminded of the fact that no matter how much we may grow and change; there are still parts of us that will always remain. And as I look at her lying next to me nervously biting her lip, I remember the Abby who never thought she was good enough. I scold myself for still, after all this time, not being able to convince her that anything she does is more than good enough for me. Although, having an Abby who's a little nervous about a birthday present not being what I want and rather than her not being what I want is a hell of a lot better than where we were all those years ago. I lean down and kiss the side of her head gently.  
  
"It will be perfect."  
  
She let out a short laugh and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I'm not so sure about that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I'm just not."  
  
"Well, can I see it?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Aaaaaaabbbbbbeeeeee..." I whine, giving her the puppy dog eyes that usually help me get my way.  
  
"John, your birthday is not for another week!"  
  
"So?"  
  
"So...you're going to wait! Besides- your birthday is supposed to be a happy thing. I don't want your first present to be opened today."  
  
I glance quickly at the clock on the nightstand and notice the time. 12:57. She's not winning this one.  
  
"Abby," I nod my head towards the clock, "it's not today anymore."  
  
"Are you sure you want it now? Cause this is the big one, ya know?"  
  
I grin like a kid on Christmas morning and start to sit up, awaiting the gift eagerly.  
  
"Just give it to me!"  
  
"I'm serious! You're setting yourself up for a big let down next week. But if you really think it's worth it..."  
  
She places the book gingerly in my lap and arranges herself comfortably against my shoulder as I flip through the pages. The first few are pictures of some ER parties back when she was a med-student, the first time, and I was nothing more than her teacher. After that, she's placed some pictures from after I came back from Atlanta, up to the time before the lockdown. Those fade into those from after we became a couple, then when we weren't, and then when we were again. There are pictures from our impromptu engagement party in the ER, hastily setup by Deb, Susan and the nurses, who felt that our finally making a formal commitment was cause for celebration. The pages that follow are of our wedding, both the formal portraits and the moments that are more relaxed. Although, I am surprised that she included the shot of Luka, Pratt, Eric and I getting just a little too relaxed and attempting to throw Abby and Susan in the pool. I keep turning and looking over the pictures of our honeymoon, Christmases, Birthdays and some more ER parties. I notice that the next few pictures are of a barbeque that we had on the hospital roof just last week and look over at Abby, silently wondering just what the rest of the pages hold. She nods and gives me a week smile urging me to go on.  
  
I turn my attention back towards the book in my lap, flipping, and allowing my eyes to sweep over the page. I recognize what I'm looking at right away, and my breath catches in my throat. These are sonogram pictures. And you have sonogram pictures when...  
  
"Wow." It comes out as barely a whisper and I try again, taking a deep breath before I speak. "Wha- uh...whoa."  
  
"Is that a- uh, a good 'whoa' or a bad 'whoa'?"  
  
I feel her rub my back gently and I realize that her hands are shaking.  
  
"That's a...That's uh...What do you think?"  
  
"Well," she hesitates and I grab the hand that's resting on my arm, encouraging her to go on. "I think that it's not really something that we planned, but-"  
  
"But it's really, really great?"  
  
I smile at her as she squeezes my hand, and I can almost see her entire body relax.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She matches my smile and I lean in to kiss her softly.  
  
"So...we're going to have a baby."  
  
"It looks that way."  
  
I peck her on the lips again and press my forehead to hers.  
  
"I love you. So much."  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
We sit together silently for a while, staring at the sonogram pictures. Every so often I rub my finger gently over the picture and squeeze Abby's hand slightly, mostly to assure myself that they are real and this is actually happening.  
  
"When did you find out?"  
  
"Well, I've kind of had a hunch for a while, but I finally got up the nerve to ask Susan to do the ultrasound yesterday. I'm sorry, I know that you probably wanted to be there, but I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."  
  
"No, it's fine. Is it? Okay, I mean?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm about eight weeks, and, according to Susan, I might just have the baby on my birthday."  
  
I smile again, and focus my attention back on the album, in awe of how my life has changed in the past twenty minutes. I'm completely amazed, and, if I'm totally honest, absolutely petrified.  
  
"Are you, okay with this?"  
  
It amazes me that she seems to be able to read my mind. Usually, I love that, but right now... This is a fantastic, happy thing and I don't want to totally screw up the moment by bringing up all these bad thoughts.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"John. You know exactly what I mean."  
  
"Honestly? I'm okay. Really, I am."  
  
She gives me a look that suggests she thinks I'm the furthest thing from fine, and I feel that I should explain myself.  
  
"What happened was an accident. I know that now. There is nothing that anyone did or didn't do that caused it. And yeah, it scares the hell out of me that there's nothing that says it won't happen again. But there's nothing that says it will, either. And I'm okay with that."  
  
"You know, I am, too. Maggie told me once that there is no life with out risks, and I think I finally understand what she meant."  
  
"Yeah. Every risk that we've taken so far has worked out pretty well..."  
  
"Only pretty well?" She questions, as she takes the album of my lap and returns it to its previous place on the nightstand before settling herself on the pillow and pulling me down beside her.  
  
"Yeah, well, its got its moments."  
  
She rolls her eyes at me before leaning up to kiss me good night.  
  
"I love you."  
  
And I do, too. I really, really do. She laces our fingers together and I place them gently over her stomach.  
  
I'm going to be a father, and everything is going to be perfect. Because I have Abby, and we have our baby. And that's all I need.  
  
"I love you, too. Both of you."

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Well, that's it. I highly doubt that I'll continue, but you never know... Also, please review, whether it be "Your story was fantastic." or "I hated it, you should never write again." Thanks !


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